


Another Grand Adventure

by Handle (Radically_Dreaming_Diri)



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Chronic Illness, Depression, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 11:26:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6702862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radically_Dreaming_Diri/pseuds/Handle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mabel was born with severe congenital heart problems, and has been in and out of the hospital all of her life. (NSFW)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Grand Adventure

Dipper sat in his chair mutely, listening to the _slap, slap, slap_ of sneakers moving down the hall, over and over and over again. Nurses, assistants, housekeeping, cafeteria staff, all walking through at various times, in and out of other rooms, behind desks, pushing carts or carrying trays. Once, an older woman came through at a sprint, a stethoscope bouncing around her neck with a syringe, capped and palmed tightly in her hand. Dipper memorized every detail of the hallway, listened to the intermittent voice that rang over the speaker system, watched people go by as they worked. They used to smile at him, they would nod politely, or offer a half-sincere word of greeting. Sometimes, an employee or a visitor would walk by slowly, with big round eyes full of sympathy for Dipper before retreating into their own room, as if to say “ _I see you. You're hurting, I'm hurting too. Be strong._ ” And, sometimes, he would try to return their earnest, unspoken support. It's what Mabel would do.

 

Today, he couldn't. He sat in a stiff, uncomfortable chair, a stack of old magazines scattered on a table beside him, untouched. He had long since scoured every inch of this hall, and had all but ignored the people, and they, in turn, ignored him, happy to go about their busy day without interruption. Once, one of the big, round eyed people walked by, a girl not much older than him. She was pale, and looked scared, and searched Dipper's face, wide eyes begging for mutual understanding, crying out for help, or appreciation, or sympathy, but Dipper had nothing today. He felt empty, and he looked empty, and he stared back emptily, watching her resolve crack under his helpless gaze, watching her eyes brim with tears and her head drop as she retreated back into a room, one that most of the staff had been avoiding.

 

Dipper's eyes moved over to the sight of his approaching father, returning with a foam cup filled with steaming coffee in one hand, and a Pitt in the other. His mouth was drawn into a thin line, his eyes were hard and downcast, as if he were watching very intently where his feet were headed, as if he hadn't walked these halls a hundred times before. He looked at his son as he approached, and offered a weak smile, setting the Pitt down beside Dipper. Dipper made no motion to grab it, or even acknowledge that it was there. He watched the motions of his father mutely, his blank face staring back until his father turned to the door beside them, knocking lightly, and slipping inside before anyone answered. Dipper could hear some hushed conversation, but he made no attempt to listen. He wasn't allowed in right now, which meant that whatever they were doing to Mabel was something that they didn't want Dipper to be privy to.

 

Dipper's mother came in to view, relieved as she was by Dipper's father, and retreated down the hall he knew contained a break room full of vending machines. She was stressed. Every ounce of her posture as she left suggested fear and anger. Dipper knew the signs. That wasn't good, and it did nothing to help shake Dipper's dark mood. He relaxed his neck, leaning his head back against the wall, pushing himself down as far as he could in the chair. Dipper closed his eyes. He couldn't look at his mother's pale face or hidden tears when she came back. He willed for sleep, closing his eyes tightly against the bright, too-white lights of the hospital, but it wasn't going to come, he knew. He heard his mother's eventual return, listened to her carefully concealed sniffle, and sat, silently, unwilling to open his eyes as he felt her stare on him, listened to her stop in front of him. He stayed quiet and still, and, eventually, she left, retreating back behind the hated door, and once again, Dipper was alone.

 

Dipper sat, unmoving. His knees locked, his back screamed against the held position, and his neck had stiffened, but he couldn't sit up, couldn't will himself to open his eyes again. He listened to the sounds of the hospital. People moved about, in and out of doors and rooms all around him. Down the hall, a family happily greeted a recovering relative, and he hated them. Sometimes, people came in or out of this room, occasionally stopping to ponder the teen outside, but Dipper was unwilling to acknowledge them at all. He sat for hours, listening, waiting, until finally, a shuffling sound came from inside the room, and a small, cool hand placed itself in his. Mabel tugged on his arm and, half supporting herself, half leaning against him, leaned over to wrap Dipper in a hug. Dipper responded instantly, his whole body coming to life. His eyes opened, his arms wrapped themselves gently around the thin girl, he straitened in his chair, easily lifting her to a more upright position as he did so. They both held the hug, unwilling to break contact, until a doctor approached the family. Only then did Mabel turn to address anyone else.

 

The doctor said the same thing that all doctors do. She droned on about medication, about taking proper precautions and care, about the transplant list, and how far down Mabel was on it, using words like 'realistic expectations.' The twins' parents listened intently, responding occasionally, acting all the while like this was riveting information, or in any way new. Dipper and Mabel tuned them out, and turned to each other. Mabel was as thin as ever, and incredibly pale after the recent visit. She had discarded the hospital gown, and apparently had insisted on dressing herself, despite her weakness after these visits, and Dipper set about to readjusting her, pulling her sweater strait on her shoulders, aligning her headband, and brushing some of the hair out of her face. Her dark hair and purple sweater made her look even paler by comparison. Mabel smiled, accepting Dipper's care, grabbing one of his hands in hers as he finished.

 

“I'd like to keep you overnight.” The doctor concluded. Mabel's parents seemed to be on the verge of agreement when she spoke up.

 

“I'd rather not.” Her voice was dry, and small, but it caught everyone's attention just the same. “Thanks, doc, but I would really rather sleep in my own bed tonight.”

 

The doctor backtracked, but only barely, insisting that it wasn't  _strictly_ necessary, but she would feel much more comfortable if... Though, if what, Dipper never found out. While their parents were listening to the doctor's advice, Mabel turned, Dipper walking with her, and the two left the doctor, silently staring after them. Mabel made no effort to stop, traveling across the floor, down an elevator, into the main lobby, outside, and into an adjoining garden, where she sat, coming to rest, somewhat winded, on a wooden bench.

 

“I hate this place.” Mabel whispered, drawing her knees up to her chest. She leaned against Dipper, and breathed a heavy sigh, looking out at the buildings surrounding them. Mabel was usually much more chipper coming back from the hospital, especially if she didn't have to stay overnight. Dipper tried to speak kindly to her, reassure her that all would be well and that one day, everything was going to be okay, no more waiting, no more surgery, no more hospitals. Dipper opened and closed his mouth, words dying and faltering before they reached his lips. He was never good with kind, calming words, and he felt hypocritical saying that everything was going to be alright. Instead, he leaned his head down to rest on hers.

 

“I know.” Dipper said simply. He tried to communicate wordlessly, tried to pour sympathy from his mind to hers, and maybe it was working. Mabel threaded her fingers with his, and before long, began singing lightly under her breath. She cracked a grin when a child walked by. The little girl had the look of a long term patient, and her mother had the look of a long term visitor, both looked weary, and strained, but the girl called Mabel by name, and jogged the short distance between them. Before long, they were both kneeling in the dirt in the garden, playing some game, while the girl's mother watched passively. Dipper made no attempt at communication, and only nodded noncommittally when Mabel introduced him. He was enjoying watching Mabel play, but still had no energy for other people.

 

Parents came and spoiled their fun. They made an attempt to chastise Mabel for playing in the dirt, but it seemed halfhearted and uninspired, she stopped just the same, still wobbling in place slightly as she rose to her feet. She reached out a hand, trying to steady herself, and Dipper was there. Mabel smiled to herself. Dipper was  _always_ there. She pulled herself up against him, and waved goodbye to the little girl and her mother, giving them both one armed hugs before retreating toward the family vehicles. Much to their parents instant dismay, Mabel pulled her way over to Dipper's beat up van instead of getting into the back of their car. Their mother made to protest, but was stopped short by their father, who promised to see them at home. They left without another word. Dipper and Mabel both slid into their respective seats, but it was a long time before Dipper started the van.

 

“What's wrong Dipper?” Mabel asked in a small voice, though she already knew the answer.

 

“I made you collapse.” It wasn't an explanation, it was an accusation. His eyes narrowed, and he glared at his reflection in the rear view mirror with a with a look of utter revulsion. Mabel flinched at the look her brother gave himself, reaching out for his arm.

 

“You didn't make me do anything.” Mabel demanded. “I... we... we got a little heated. It was bound to happen, besides, _boop_ ,” She punctuated her statement by pressing a finger into his cheek, trying to relax the hard frown on his face. “I can handle a little fainting.” This did not have the effect Mabel was hoping for. Dipper's eyes got more strained, his brow knitted, his jaw set, like he was trying to keep from crying, or exploding. Apparently, the latter. Dipper seemed to lose whatever internal struggle he'd been having, and responded by balling up his fist, and slamming it into the steering wheel, directly on a knuckle Mabel knew he had broken in the past. The resulting pop made Mabel wince, but it brought a look of pained satisfaction to Dipper's face. He struck again, and again, in rapid succession, his face getting redder, and his pained look getting more pronounced, before Mabel grabbed his hand.

 

“Dipper, _stop_!” Mabel demanded. He responded instantly, his fist going lax as he allowed her to pull his arm into her lap. She inspected the hand, running a finger over his reddening knuckle, feeling for any abnormality besides the one that was already there. Mabel was intimately familiar with this hand. It was an eternal reminder of how fragile she had become, and about how thoughtless Dipper could be in her defense. Crisp, clear memories flooded her mind, memories of the first time she had lost her breath, and lost her balance because her heart wouldn't stop racing. At the time, she had been standing on the railing of a porch, and Dipper had vaulted over after her, his hand around her head. She had felt it break, cradled as she was against him. A broken knuckle didn't sound like much, and Dipper dismissed it easily, but it wasn't something Mabel would ever forget.

 

“Sorry,” Dipper mumbled, eyes downcast. He made to take his hand and start the van, but Mabel held him fast, pulling him toward her, grabbing his face, drawing him into a deep kiss. He didn't respond at first. His fists clenched, he stiffened, his eyes darted to the windshield, searching for any onlooker. Mabel didn't care. She was losing a fight with her own inner demons, tears were threatening to spill out against Dipper's face, and she just wanted to wash away Dipper's look of self loathing and her own feeling of cold, clinical fear that always clung to her from hospital rooms. She kissed until Dipper responded, slowly at first, as if he were afraid of a repeat of before, but he soon lost his reserve, his hand gliding up and into her hair, cradling the back of her head. Mabel held the kiss until they had to part, gasping for breath. She could feel her heart racing, and she placed a hand on her chest, loving the feeling.

 

“I love you.” She said, and smiled at Dipper until he smiled back.

 

“I love you, Mabel.” He said, starting the van, and beginning the familiar drive home.

 

*

 

Dinner was a simple affair. Dipper and Mabel were excused to watch television while their parents prepared the meal. They sat on the couch together in companionable silence, Dipper casually flipping through station after station before turning on an old monster movie. Mabel's eyes fluttered shut almost instantly, she curled up, resting her head on her brother's lap, drifting off for a short nap while they waited on dinner. Dipper was glad for the silence. When they had returned home, Dipper and Mabel had to endure being grilled by their parents about what Mabel was doing that caused her to collapse. Thankfully, they had the forethought to discuss that on the way home, and they both told the same story, namely, that they were being childish and were chasing each other, and Mabel had gotten winded. Their parents had only reluctantly accepted the story, and something in their eyes told Dipper that they suspected that they were being lied to, but they didn't challenge the twins.

 

Dipper nudged Mabel awake when they were called, and the family sat down to a peaceful meal. Dipper passed the time in silence, only commenting when he was addressed, and his parents passed the meal discussing their daily lives, chatting about the who's who of water cooler gossip, or the ups and downs of job politics. Mabel chatted animatedly, starting with the most recent update from one of her favorite nurses, then a lab technician. She talked about the little girl she played with, what her condition was, and how her family was coping. She talked about people that her family didn't seem to know, going into great detail about their lives, describing them in a thoroughly Mabel-y way that left each member of her family feeling like they knew the people personally.

 

Mabel talked well through the conclusion of everyone's meal, finishing with a halfhearted lament about not having any ice cream, or anything sugary for that matter, before one parent then the other stifled a yawn, and they trudged off to bed, relegating the cleanup to Dipper. Mabel helped, taking advantage of a captive audience to continue to regale Dipper with the lives of the people she knew, only a few of which Dipper was sure didn't actually exist, but he smiled, nodding along politely, flicking soapy water in her direction whenever her story got a little too rambunctious or outlandish.

 

After dishes, Dipper retreated to his room to change into some nightclothes, and finish any homework assignments. He worked slowly, with purpose, straining his ears as he worked. He heard Mabel's door open and shut, and listened for a time while she went about her nightly routine. Eventually, Dipper heard what he was waiting for, and slid out of his desk to the sounds of his father's snoring. He waited, poised by his door. If their mother was still awake, she would wake up their father in an effort to stop the snores, but they plodded on in a rhythmic drone. Dipper smiled, and slipped out of his door, across the hall to Mabel's, and quietly entered without knocking. Mabel was already in bed, but awake, apparently waiting for him.

 

“I was wondering if you were coming.” Mabel chided, as Dipper slipped under the covers. He nodded sleepily, stretching out in bed as Mabel curled up against his side.

 

“I was just waiting, you know, to make sure everyone was asleep.” Dipper replied. He felt groggy and drained after the events of the day, and he could already feel himself drifting off. Dipper shook his head, unwilling to fall asleep just yet. “Besides, you know I can't sleep without a bedtime story.”

 

“Right,” Mabel said, bringing a hand up to her lips, momentarily lost in thought. “Okay, where were we?”

 

“The last thing I remember was that our uncle was going to run for mayor.” Dipper said. He gave a tired stretch as Mabel started her story. It was something that had started in their youth, a story about a fantastical world full of fairies, and unicorns, and gnomes for Mabel, and full of mystery, and suspense for Dipper. They had a long lost family there, and in the story Dipper was happy, and Mabel was healthy, and every night they would go on another grand adventure, each more fantastic than the last.

 

“Wait,” Dipper interjected. “A mind control tie?”

 

“A mind control tie!” Mabel repeated. “Because, you know, our new secret uncle used to sell his spy stuff to the government sometimes, to use on Reagan or whoever. Anyway, so we try it out, and the tie works!” Mabel started to giggle uncontrollably for a moment, before continuing her story. “We tried it on the handyman first, made him eat a pine cone.”

 

“That's kind of evil.” Dipper commented, looking down at the top of his sister's head.

 

“That's what Gideon said! Or, will say anyway.”

 

“Oh, Gideon's in this one? I don't like him.”

 

“Me either, broseph.” Mabel conceded. “That's what makes him such a good bad guy, anyway-”

 

Dipper listened to her story as long as he could, occasionally offering comments, or tidbits of information before sleep began to overtake him. The rest of the story drifted in and out, with Dipper occasionally catching snatches of mind control spells, punching eagles, and exploding mountain heads. He roused somewhat when Mabel turned off the lamp on the nightstand, staying awake long enough to pull her into a long goodnight kiss, then let sleep overtake him completely. His dreams were pleasant, but over too quickly, interrupted by a quiet alarm, pulling Dipper back to reality. He crawled out from under the covers, disentangling from his sister, quickly turning off the alarm. He glared at the faintly glowing numbers that he hated most of all, the ones that took this time away. Dipper made to stand with slow resignation, but got no farther than the edge of the bed.

 

“Bro?” Mabel sounded sleepy, but she was sitting up.

 

“Hey Mabes,” Dipper whispered. “Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up, I'm just going back to bed.”

 

“Oh,” Mabel said. She continued to rise, curling her arms around his chest, and leaning her head against his back. “You don't have to.”

 

“I do, Mabel.” Dipper said, indicating the alarm. Mabel leaned over, picking up a small scrapbook on the nightstand, and placed it deliberately to cover the clock.

 

“There, it's gone.” Mabel offered. She started to knead Dipper's shoulders in her hands, pulling him closer, kissing his neck below his ear. “They'll be up in a few hours. We've got time.”

 

“Come on, Mabes,” Dipper said. He sounded worried. Mabel responded by leaving a trail of soft kisses from his ear to his shoulder.

 

“I want to try again.” She whispered. Dipper turned to face her, grabbing her hand.

 

“The last time, you passed out Mabes. You're not serious.” Dipper argued. By the look in her eyes, she was.

 

“There were extenuating circumstances last time. I was exhausted, and I was already having heart trouble.” She looked up at Dipper, a desperate look shining in her eye. “I'm all well rested now, and my heart is fine.”

 

“Mabel, please. I want to. I _really_ want to, but come on, I mean, I think the last thing I want to do is-” Mabel cut Dipper off, crawling into his lap.

 

“You think too much, bro-bro.” Mabel pressed herself against him, pulling him into a fierce kiss. She felt his own wants and desires slowly overriding his reservations and fears, spurring him to action. He easily pulled her closer against him, his hands trailing from her hips to her waist, lifting her overlarge night shirt with them.

 

Mabel felt one of Dipper's hands glide its way along her inner thigh, working its way between the two of them, pressed together as they were, and run an experimental finger across the growing wetness of her panties. Mabel's hips bucked instinctively, and she moaned into the kiss. Emboldened by the moan, Dipper repeated the motion, gently rubbing a finger along the mounting heat between Mabel's legs. She broke the kiss with a gasp, her head falling back as Dipper pushed the thin veil of fabric aside, tracing his finger along the outside of her before finding its way within. Mabel rocked against the gentle pressure of one finger, then another exploring the depth of her, and she felt a twitch from Dipper as she rolled her hips against him in rhythm with his hand.

 

Dipper's free hand had begun to pull at Mabel's shirt again, lifting it up, over her head, and tossing it in a heap on the floor. Mabel responded in kind, pulling Dipper's shirt away, his hand only breaking from its motions for a moment to toss the garment away. Mabel curled her fingers in the hair on his chest, guiding him up and pressing her lips onto his. She broke the kiss almost instantly as Dipper's thumb grazed across the bud between her legs. She let out a moan, loud and uninhibited, and immediately clapped her hands to her mouth. She was straining to listen for any inclination that their parents had heard, but Dipper smiled, repeating the motion, with similar results. Mabel buried her face against him, her stifled moan vibrating against his skin.

 

Dipper's hand was relentless, and Mabel soon found herself squirming in place. His free hand was exploring every inch of her skin, but every tap, every rub and pinch down below sent another small jolt of electricity through her. Her chest was heaving, her breathing had gone ragged, and she had bit down on Dipper's shoulder to keep from crying out any louder than she already was. It vaguely registered in Mabel's mind that she could hear her begging voice, pleading over and over “... _please don't stop, please don't stop._ ”

 

Mabel can hear Dipper's voice in her ear, whispering that she's beautiful, that he loves her, but she can barely hear it. Mabel grabs onto Dipper's arms, her back arching, her hips bucking. Her whole body tenses, convulsions running through her as she falls into Dipper's waiting grasp. She can see him smiling as he watches her fall apart in his arms.

 

Mabel relaxed, with every intention of falling asleep in Dipper's grasp, but he's already moving, climbing out of bed. Mabel tried to catch his gaze, but he seemed to be avoiding her eyes.

 

“Dipper?” Mabel asked. He was pacing back and forth on a short circuit, looking back and forth from the door to the foot of the bed. “Dipper!” She said again, more insistently this time. He turned to face her, still not meeting her stare.

 

“Yeah? I uh... What's up?” He appeared to be mentally kicking himself.

 

“Now's not the time to be getting weird about us.” Mabel demanded. She pulled the covers away from herself, and made to rise, but stopped, blushing at the awed expression on Dipper's face as his eyes trailed up across her bare body, finally meeting her gaze.

 

“I know,” Dipper said. He shook his head as if trying to clear it, and smiled lightly to himself. He leaned back down, and Mabel opened her arms to him, but he stopped short, hooking a finger in her panties, pulling them slowly away. He held the garment up against the shine of a nightlight in the wall, and Mabel could see them, wet and sticky like his glistening hand in the light. Dipper bent down again, cleaning any excess with the balled up garment, eliciting another soft man from his sister, before tossing it on the floor, apart from the rest of their discarded clothes. He withdrew to a chest of drawers in one corner of the room, pulling open a drawer and returning with another pair. He took a long, languorous time, slowly inching her underwear up her legs, along her thighs, fitting them snugly in place with a deliberate attention to detail and a quiet passion that had Mabel beginning feel another twinge of excitement. One hand glided from the tip of her panties, along her stomach, across a breast, coming to rest under her chin. He leaned in, and kissed her softly, sweetly. She patted the bed beside her, but Dipper stood, indicating the door.

 

“I'm sorry, Mabel, but I've really got to go.” Dipper said, cracking the door.

 

“I know.” Mabel replied, sighing lightly. “I love you.”

 

“I love you too, sis.” Dipper whispered, sliding out the door.

 

*

 

Mabel sat, curled into the oversized, squishy recliner, a ball of yarn in her lap, humming, a steady pile of similarly sized squares of cloth growing at her side. The rhythmic _click, click, click_ of the needles in her hand relaxed Mabel, giving her plenty of time to reflect on the events of the week. Dipper had handled their new found closeness strangely. He seemed to be caught between having everything he ever wanted, and waiting for some unseen shoe to drop, like some cosmic cruelty would take everything from him. She could usually convince him to be just as close and affectionate as ever (sometimes more so,) but often he would look far away, getting a look on his face that Mabel knew too well, one that signaled Dipper's fall into himself, his withdraw from the world. When this would happen, Mabel would do her best to draw him out of it, make all her silly faces, put on all of her goofy costumes, until Dipper smiled along with her, and they would laugh and play like they were five years younger, and everything would be okay, most of the time. Some nights, nothing Mabel could do would draw Dipper out of his own mind, so she would lie with him, hold on to him until he acknowledged the world again.

 

Mabel sat down her work, tying off one last square before switching colors and beginning again. Her eyes trailed over to a notepad on the coffee table, her own handwriting scrawled across it, indicating a requested call back from the hospital, and it's associated doctors. Her father would probably call when he got home, going through the same motions of concern, hope, realization, deflation, and resignation before hanging up the phone. He couldn't help it, no one could. Every time the hospital called, the receiver hoped against hope that they were calling to announce some news from the transplant committee, and every time, it wasn't. The call wold be about rescheduling notice, or appointment confirmation, or a long list of anything other than what they were hoping for. Today would be no different, but she was going to have to watch it happen anyway. Her father would dial the phone, her mother would wander in from the kitchen, her brother would look up from whatever he was working on, each with the same unspoken plea on their faces before everything would come crashing down again. Mabel _hated_ it, because she felt it too, the sudden swelling hope, and the exhausted feeling that followed, every time it drained away. Today wouldn't be any different, and Mabel knew what that was going to do to her family. Her father would get an extra beer out of the refrigerator. Her mother would deny crying into whatever she was making for dinner, and Dipper... Tonight wasn't going to be a good night.

 

Dipper was working down the road for a neighbor. They had a sickly little girl that tended to put Dipper in a foul mood. He was already going to need some cheering up today. Mabel had already planned for it. She had already gotten out a witch costume, complete with stuffed black cat and a gnarled old broom, and had loaded up _I Put a Spell on You_ on Dipper's computer. She had been practicing her cackle all day. There's no way that's going to work now. Maybe she could just hide the note, until the morning?

 

Mabel finished the last of her project and rose, eyeing the notepad as she did. The more she thought of hiding it, the better the idea became. He would do it just as soon as she finished this. She grabbed up everything she had been working on lately, and started placing them into packages, boxing up knitted squares, and blankets, hats, and gloves in with knitted dolls and toys of every shape and size. She marked them all with the same address, a charity that shipped such things to children in need, and did her best to balance the boxes on her way to the door. A slamming door ahead of Mabel caused her to teeter, trying to keep her carefully balanced boxes from falling. A stabilizing hand, and Dipper's face popped around the side. Mabel's heart sank. She was right, he was already going to need some cheering up.

 

“Thanks, bro.” Mabel offered, after she had regained her balance. With Dipper's assistance, Mabel made it the rest of the way to the door, and set the packages beside it. “So,” Mabel asked as they returned to the kitchen. “How did work go?”

 

“Um,” Dipper gave a noncommittal shrug, mutely accepting his sister's arm curling around his waist. They stepped into the living room, moving toward the couch, however, much to Mabel's surprise, Dipper stopped dead before their destination. She looked up at his face, then followed his gaze, her own eyes coming to rest on the note from the doctor's office left on the coffee table. Mabel kicked herself mentally. How could she forget so soon? She heard Dipper sigh, and he broke contact with her, flopping down onto the couch. He picked up the remote control, but didn't turn the television on. His eyes darted between the blank screen and the handwritten note.

 

“Let's watch something.” Mabel said, sinking down on the couch beside her brother. She grabbed the remote, but did not take it, pressing her hand to his as she turned on the television. Dipper shrugged noncommittally, allowing her to change the channel, not focusing on what the screen showed when she would ask his opinion. Eventually she gave up, and Dipper could feel his sister's head in his lap as she curled up against him. Dipper absently ran a hand through Mabel's hair.

 

“It may not be bad news.” Dipper said eventually, though he didn't sound convinced. Mabel twisted in place, looking up at him. Dipper seemed to be watching the show she picked now. His eyes were sliding between the television and her instead of the coffee table. Mabel took it as a good sign.

 

“It may even be good news.” Mabel offered. Dipper frowned down at her.

 

“Let's not get our hopes up yet.” Dipper sighed, his hand running from her hair to her side, tracing a lazy pattern along her waist. They lapsed into silence again, watching one show, then another as their parents made their way home. Their mother was first, passing the twins with a warm greeting, and, as per usual on a Saturday, began cooking as soon as she got home. She passed through the living room without looking at the notepad, and both of the twins were grateful. Their father shared an equally pleasant greeting, but upon entering the living room, he had a response similar to Dipper's. He stopped, and stared at the note like it was something foreign. He sighed, a deep, low, rumbling sound, and deposited what he had brought home from work in a chair, picked up the note, and immediately began dialing.

 

“Hello, this is Mr. Pines, I was called...” The twins listened mutely, and everything started to play out exactly as Mabel predicted. She could hear their mother coming in from the kitchen. Worst of all, Dipper had stopped watching television. He was eyeing their father with the same thinly veiled hope he always did, and it made Mabel feel hollow. “...confirm an appointment...” Of course. Mabel placed a hand on Dippers. The hopeful look was already draining away. This was not going to be a good night.

 

“...say what now?” Their father demanded of the phone. All eyes were on him. A grin started to split his face. He was going slack jawed, his mouth hanging open in shock and delight. “Yes! Yes I'm still here.” He waved off their questioning mother, and hastily concluded the phone call before turning back to face the family.

 

“Well?” The twins demanded in unison. Mabel was worried. Her father was smiling, but his eyes were brimming, tears already sliding free. He opened his mouth once, then cleared his throat when his voice cracked.

 

“Mabel has been,” their father paused, looking around dramatically. “Moved to the top of the transplant list.” The world seemed to pause. Something was swelling deep inside Mabel, a feeling she could see reflected in each member of her family. Somebody laughed, and the pause stopped. Everyone was yelling, everyone was celebrating. Dipper had stood off the couch, and he scooped Mabel up into a bone cracking hug when she rose to follow him. Their mother was crying, and laughing, whatever she was trying to say was coming out as blubbering incoherence. Their father was trying to dry his eyes, though not very successfully, and then there was Dipper. Mabel hadn't seen Dipper smile like this in a very long time. He was laughing and carrying on with everyone, and everywhere she turned, eventually, his eyes would lock with hers. It was as if a weight had lifted off of him.

 

They burned dinner, so their father ordered pizza. They almost dropped that, once it had arrived, and everyone stayed up far too late, talking and laughing and eating. Eventually, barely awake as it was, their parents announced their need for sleep, and bade the twins goodnight. Dipper retired almost immediately after cleaning the kitchen. Mabel sat for a while, reveling in the feeling of happiness that seemed to permeate the room. She stayed until she heard the telltale sound of her father falling asleep, then she quickly made her way to Dipper's room, entering without knocking. He was still dressed, sitting on the edge of his bed with tears rolling down his face.

 

“Dipper?” Mabel crossed the room immediately, reaching out for her brother. He looked up, arms reaching out to greet her, and pulled her into his lap as he approached. His red eyes closed, and he pressed his wet lips against hers.

 

“Come on Dip, what's up?” Mabel asked, pulling away from the kiss. He looked at her with a wide smile.

 

“Nothing,” Dipper said, and he laughed. It sounded like a bell tone to Mabel. “Not a thing. My day's fantastic. So, Mabes, I have a question.”

 

“Anything. What you know, bro?” Mabel settled a little farther onto his lap, waiting patiently. Dipper's eyes darted away from hers, an embarrassed blush rising on his cheeks.

 

“Well, I was wondering... You know what, it's stupid, never mind.” Dipper's voice dropped off. He jumped, a bark of laughter escaping him as Mabel tickled him.

 

“Nope.” Mabel demanded. “You've got me all curious now. Out with it.”

 

“Okay, I was... Maybe you would like to... go on a date?” Dipper blushed, looking at her sheepishly.

 

“Say what? Did mister it's-too-risky-to-hold-hands just ask me out on a date? With him?” Mabel chided, but she was grinning. Nothing sounded more wonderful.

 

“Well, I found this spot.” Dipper defended his idea. “It's a park, outside of town. It's usually really empty, and no one we know goes there. I thought, maybe we could pack a picnic or something.”

 

“Oh, Dipper that sounds _wonderful_!” Mabel beamed. She was already planning what she was going to wear, picturing a romantic scene with Dipper throwing caution to the winds, and acting like a proper couple for a day. Today couldn't get any better.

 

“I hoped you would like it. I just, I want to-” Dipper's sentence dropped off into a wide yawn.

 

“Right, bedtime story,” Mabel said, sliding off of Dipper and lying down on the side of his bed.

 

“You don't have to, Mabel.” Dipper began, but his sister raised a hand.

 

“Change, mister. Storytelling genius waits for no man.” She demanded, and watched Dipper change into his nightclothes, then slip into bed beside her. “So, where were we?” Mabel asked when Dipper was finally in bed.

 

“Hmm,” Dipper put a finger to his mouth, thinking back over the stories of the last few nights. “The last thing I remember is that we had just gotten back from the mummy mountain theme park, with the spider lady.”

 

“Oh right.” Mabel cracked a smile. “Then tonight's story is about a little girl who never wanted to grow up.” Mabel smiled, pulling herself close to Dipper. “Until she learned that there was nothing she wanted more in the world than the opportunity to grow up with her bro-bro.”

 

“Really?” Dipper asked. His voice sounded strained.

 

“There's also time travel, and alien spaceships and junk.” Mabel quickly added.

 

*

 

Dipper couldn't quit fidgeting. He was _excited_. He woke up way too early for a Sunday, early enough to see his parents up and off to help a friend with some home improvement project. He took a long time in the shower, taking extra care, making sure he was extra clean. Today had to be perfect. Mabel had just gotten the best news of her life, and he wanted to give her the best date of her life to follow. He planned meticulously, trying to think of any and every detail that would help this be a night that they would never forget. He dressed, and changed, and changed again, trying on a few different looks before settling on one of his flannels (a clean one, this time.) He pulled out food in the kitchen, going through everything, trying to decide on what to pack. This was going to be harder than he thought.

 

Mabel joined him in the kitchen after a few hours of fretting, all but bouncing with excitement. She was wearing a blue sundress, with an oversized, bedazzled flower stuck in her headband. She grinned at Dipper coming in, then blushed slightly at his slack jawed expression. Between them, packing for the picnic went along much faster. Mabel made sandwiches and cut up fruit, packed in all manner of various food. Far more than they could eat, in Dipper's opinion. Both ready, with lunch packed, they were off, rumbling down the road in Dipper's beat up old van. He drove them out of town, off the main road, well past where Mabel lost cell phone reception before they pulled onto a road with a big sign announcing an entrance to a local park. The day was sunny and breezy, and Dipper had apparently picked the perfect spot, leading Mabel over to a flat patch of ground near a creek.

 

“How long have you been planning this?” Mabel asked, looking around. Dipper grinned, and shrugged, pulling out the beach towel that they brought along to sit on.

 

“What can I say, Mabes, I'm a romantic at heart.” Dipper sat, then patted the towel for her to join him.

 

“I'll say. I didn't know you had it in you.” Mabel looked around at the scene, watched the creek, then turned to face Dipper as he offered her a strawberry.

 

“Then I guess I'll just have to try extra hard from now on.” Dipper admitted, taking some fruit for himself. They ate, and talked, and laughed, both enjoying the lack of anxiety, the sudden feeling of weightlessness from last night. After the food was cleared, and the laughs had been had, Dipper surprised Mabel by producing some music and impromptu speakers, and pulled her up, putting on a romantic song, pulling her into a dance.

 

“I hope you're having fun,” Dipper said, looking down at his sister's head leaning against his chest. “Because I kind of made a long playlist.” Mabel smiled, looking up at Dipper.

 

“Good. I'm not going anywhere.” Mabel grinned, and leaned up, lightly pressing her lips to his. They danced through one song, then another. The third was interrupted by a sudden cry of pain from Mabel. She doubled over, wrapping her arms around her chest.

“Mabel!” Dipper all but shouted, trying to help his sister up. Mabel suppressed another shout, and collapsed onto the ground. Her eyes were open, but squinting, and she whimpered, curling on the ground.

 

“Hospital,” She croaked out. Dipper his knees, one hand on Mabel, the other digging in his pocket for his phone. Dipper's hand recoiled momentarily from Mabel. Her heart felt like it was going to explode out of her chest, it was beating so hard and so fast. He wrenched out his phone, but it refused to call. They were too far, out of any service area. Dipper yelled in frustration, scooping up his sister, and running toward his van, leaving the picnic abandoned at the park. The van rumbled to life with agonizing slowness, and Dipper was gone, speeding as fast as his van would take him back to town.

 

Dipper prayed to anyone he could think of, begging, pleading with the universe that his sister would be okay, hot tears stinging his eyes as he sped down the road. Another whimper of pain from Mabel drove any thought out of Dipper's head, and he pressed his foot harder down on the already floored gas pedal. He almost crashed twice. Once Dipper was certain he as back in service range, he groped for his phone again, but it was gone. He cursed loudly. It was probably still sitting at the park.

 

Somehow, Dipper made it to the hospital without killing them both, or getting pulled over. He slammed the van into park in front of the door, and bolted out and around, pulling Mabel out of the seat. He started yelling for help immediately, and people were already surrounding him, taking Mabel, dashing away into the emergency room. He followed. They wouldn't let him in to her room, despite his pleading, so he sank, defeated, into a chair nearby.

 

Dipper wrung his hands, twisting them over and over. How could he be so _stupid!_ Dipper balled up a fist, slamming his once broken knuckle into the arm of the chair. _Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!_ Again and again. He felt his knuckle crack with a satisfying crunch and a lance of pain. _Stupid!_ He slammed his hand down again, biting down his yell of pain. _You were careless and stupid and now Mabel's going to..._ He couldn't complete the thought, sinking his head into his swelling hand.

 

People sprinted in and out of the room. Someone was tasked with calling their parents. Dipper heard a whir and click that brought him back to reality, punctuated by a doctor's shouted demands of “ _clear!_ ” _This can't be happening!_ Hot tears were bubbling up in Dipper's eyes. Dipper listened to the chaos in the room behind him slow, and a procession of nurses emerged, shoulders slumped, heads hung low. The doctor emerged, and placed a consoling hand on Dipper's arm. He said something Dipper didn't hear. He couldn't look up, and eventually, the doctor left.

 

No one stopped Dipper from entering Mabel's room. The nurses and technicians and doctors all avoided each others eyes as the first wail, loud and unrestrained erupted from the room. It was a deep thing, basal, and broken, the sound of something lost. Everyone continued to work, trying to politely ignore the heartbreak, no one knowing what to say. What could they say?

 


End file.
